


Bucky Barnes Doesn't Remember Shit

by DumpsterDiving101



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Brock rumlow is creepy when hes sweet, Bucky Barnes After Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Barnes-centric, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Fluff and Humor, Funny, Gen, Humor, Memory Loss, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rebellious bucky barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-05-26 14:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15002699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumpsterDiving101/pseuds/DumpsterDiving101
Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn't remember shit.He's been carefully conditioned to listen and learn, and what he learns is that he likes food and baths and reading and maybe spending time with his not-handler Steve Rogers. In order to keep these things, he decides that his best bet is to play along and pretend he remembers Steve, even if he really, really doesn't.Includes Bucky doing his very best, Steve being an emotional mess, and Sam and Natasha making bets on Steve's stability like the good friends they are.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This, You Protect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752638) by [owlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlet/pseuds/owlet). 



> The writing style / Bucky's inner monologue is inspired by Owlet's "This, You Protect" series, which I have read in full and would highly recommend.

The strangest thing about Captain America was how absolutely  _ stupid _ he was. The Winter Soldier shot at him, punched him, tried to  _ kill  _ him, and Captain America kept stopping and staring at him, saying things that had no explanation like “Bucky?” and “You're my friend, I'm not going to hurt you.” 

 The last one did something strange to Winter’s brain, making it twitch and ejaculate definitions. 

 

**Friend, n.**

 

  * ****Someone with whom a person has mutual affection for.****


  * **Someone with whom a person often spends time with in a mutually gratifying way.**



 

 

 That didn't help. Winter didn't have much practice with affection, but he was aware it involved smiling and good-touching. He also didn't have much practice with those. 

 So, Captain America calling him his friend? It was… upsetting. 

 Then the helicarrier exploded, the Captain fell into the water, and Winter dove in after him. He dragged him out of the water to shoot him on the shore, but the word  _ friend _ had apparently upset Mission, because Mission refused to talk to him. His mission was to kill Captain America, yes? But then, Rumlow said they were friends, which was why Winter wasn't supposed to hurt Rumlow… 

 So instead of killing him, Winter walked away. Mission failure would result in recalibration, undoubtedly, but killing a handler would result in a much more severe recalibration. 

 However, when Winter arrived at the bank, it was empty. He looked around-- no one. He sat in the chair. It remained off. 

 He waited for a few hours, then left. Maybe he was supposed to stay with the new handler. 

 Tracking Captain America wasn't incredibly difficult. Fact: The Captain was severely injured, therefore Deduction: he was brought to a hospital. Inference, he would be in the nearest hospital to the site of the mission failure, and Sub-Mission, the Winter Soldier needed to find the nearest hospital. 

 He found the hospital, found out what room the Captain was being held in through careful observation, and then reported to it. The Captain was unconscious; not ideal. Handlers couldn't give proper orders if they were unconscious. Mission would remain confused. 

 A woman walked down the hallway and then stared at him. He raised his gun, then remembered that she had been on the bridge with Captain America. 

 He lowered the gun. Recalibration would be worsened from threatening handlers. “Mission?” He asked. She stared at him. “Base has been eliminated, handler transfer in process. Handler: Rogers incapacitated. New handler transfer?” 

 She continued to stare at him. He stared back. “You think Rogers is your handler?” 

 “Confirm. Handler: Rogers incapacitated. New handler transfer?” 

 “...Deny. Rogers is mission head. Your current mission is to report to him. What are your override codes?” 

 “Codes: twelve, leviathan, industry, fountain.” 

 “Override codes.” 

 His face did a strange thing: it moved. His eyebrows pulled together due to emotional response. Emotion identified: confusion. 

 Emotion is undesirable. Emotion results in recalibration. 

 Emotion response: terminated. 

 “Override codes?” 

 “Confirm.” 

 “Confirm.” 

 A beeping noise came from inside the room and Asset turned to look for the source. “Blood sugar levels low." 

 She glanced in the room, putting a hand on her hip. “It’s because of his goddamn metabolism. Soldier, report to the nurses’ station?” 

 “Yes sir.” His face did the thing again. “Yes ma’am.” 

 She nodded, so he left. The nurse’s station was at the end of the hallway. When he got there he stared at the woman on duty until she looked at him. 

 “Can I help you?” 

 “Patient: Captain America’s blood sugar levels are low.” He considered for a moment. “It’s because of his goddamn metabolism.” 

 The nurse expressed confusion, then smoothed out her face once more. Good; emotion results in recalibration. 

 “I'll be right there." 

 Winter nodded and returned to the redhead. She looked pleased. “Do you want to go in and see him?” 

 “I can view him from here.” 

 “Yeah, but you could sit next to him if you'd like. I bet he’ll have a seizure when he sees you.” 

 “Seizures are not optimal, especially after head trauma.” 

 “Yeah, but not an actual seizure. It’s an expression.” 

 

_ New definition _

**Seizure, n.**

 

  * ****A medical ailment including head pounding, rapid body movement, loss of control. Often a result of strenuous recalibration.****


  * **A figure of speech, i.e. “I bet he’ll have a seizure when he sees you". File under:**



 

**.**

**.**

**.**

**File under: New file**

**→ Name: Humor**

**Figure of speech: seizure filed.  under: Humor.**

 

 Inside the hospital room a man sat reading a book. He was also on the bridge. 

 Deduction: mission-assist to Handler Captain America. 

 Redhead mission assist gestured to a chair. Winter sat and monitored handler vitals.

 “Natasha, would you like to explain--" 

 “His mission protocols have changed. He now understands that Steve is his handler.” 

 “But Natasha--" 

 “He’s not deaf.” 

 Hmm. Interesting. They appeared to be talking about Captain America, who appeared to be a ‘he’. The Winter Soldier/The Asset was an ‘it’. 

 “Steve is going to be so pissed.” 

 “Or he’ll cry from happiness. Wanna make a bet?” 

 “Ten dollars. I say he’ll be angry first, cry after.”

“I say he’ll cry first, be angry later. It’s a bet.” 

 They shook hands. Winter looked up definitions for: pissed, happiness, bet.

 Redhead mission-assist left. The nurse arrived and adjusted the IV, causing the Captain’s blood sugar levels to return to adequate. Male mission-assist thanked the nurse, and Asset watched her. Possible threat detected: slow staff. 

 Male mission-assist stared at him. “Ever heard Marvin Gaye?” 

 Negative. 

 Mission-assist played music. 

 Memory data accessible: music paired with surgery on left thigh, gunshot wound, no anesthesia. Rubber in the mouth. “What's that crap you’re listening to?” “Hey, it helps me concentrate! And I think he likes it too!” The music was shut off soon after. 

 “Do you like it?” mission-assist inquired. 

 Asset expressed confusion before remembering to smooth his features. “Enjoyment is non-mission compliant.” 

 That was supposed to earn him praise, but instead mission-assist looked…

 

...searching data…

 

uncomfortable.

 

 “Okay,” he said, and Winter catalogued the vocal tones under ‘discomfort’. “Do you mind if I keep playing it? It’s from the Troubleman album.” 

 “Deny. Enjoyment is… non-mission relevant. Proceed.” 

 “Okay.” 

 The Winter Soldier did his best to ignore the music. Music was non-mission compliant. 

 He remained on the chair for 6.17 hours, only leaving to alert the nurse whenever Captain America’s blood sugar levels dropped. After a while, he didn't even need to say anything, she would just follow him. 

 Nurse removed from possible threat list. 

 “I don’t think we've been introduced,” male mission-assist said after 0.55 hours. “I'm Sam.” 

 

**New file**

**→ Name: Sam**

**Notes: Marvin Gaye (Troubleman), bridge**

 

 “Confirm.” 

 Mission-assist Sam paused. “What’s your name?” 

 Emotion identified: confusion. Winter did not show expression however, so recalibration would likely not occur. “Data-briefing will occur upon handler reawakening.” 

 “Uh huh. But until then, what should I call you?” 

 “The Asset.” 

 Mission-assist Sam identified: discomfort. “Do you like that name?” 

 “Enjoyment is non-mission compliant.” 

 “It’s relevant for this mission. What do you want to be called?” 

 Hesitation. 

 “When Steve wakes up, he will probably call you Bucky. Do you like that name?” 

_ Enjoyment is non-mission compliant. New directive: “It’s relevant for this mission” = Enjoyment is mission-compliant? File under: examine further.  _

 “Bucky?” The Asset looked up, more due to the noise than the actual word. “Bucky? Do you like that name?” 

 There was an issue with that sentence. Mission-assist Sam referred to the Asset as ‘you’, which would normally result in the response in the first person singular ‘I’ (or the first person plural ‘we’). However, the Asset was an ‘it’, which is a singular third-person neuter pronoun, which was very different from first person singular. 

 The Asset wanted to explain this, but too much talking resulted in recalibration. “Permission to speak?” 

 “You don’t have to ask.”

 

**Filed under: examine further.**

 

 Even with the permission, Winter tried to keep it short. “Asset is filed under third person neuter pronoun, i.e. ‘it’, not second person singular ‘you’. Confirm?” 

 Sam processed. “Deny. File under… I don’t know what they're called, I haven't talked about pronouns since like, my Freshman year in high school. Okay, um, you are a person, agreed? So use personal pronouns, like ‘I’ and ‘me’. Confirm?” 

 What? No. “Confirm?” Was this a trap. 

 “Confirm,” Sam repeated. He looked smug. 

 The Asset didn't need to look up that emotion. 

 At 2.25 hours, mission-assist Sam left and returned with food, handing a container and a plastic spoon to the Winter Soldier. “Here, try some. It’s chocolate pudding.” 

 Chocolate pudding was non-mission compliant because enjoyment was non-mission compliant, but mission-assist Sam gave to order to ‘try some’, so Asset was at risk for recalibration due to disregard to mission orders. He tried some. 

 Chocolate pudding was  _ very _ non-compliant with his mission. 

 He finished the container. 

 Sam continued to be smug. “You liked it?” 

 Winter spent the next 2 minutes searching his dictionary for the proper word. 

 Sam was an ass. 

 The Winter Soldier felt smug. The Winter Solider did not show Sam his smugness however, as that would result in recalibration. 

\------------

 At 3.83 hours Sam asked if Asset wanted food,  _ deny,  _ at 4.51 hours Sam asked if Asset wanted ‘something to drink’,  _ deny,  _ and at 5.08 hours Sam asked if Asset wanted to go for a walk,  _ deny _ . 

 Handler Captain America woke up at 6.17 hours, so Asset went to retrieve the nurse. When he returned, mission-assist Sam was talking in a calming voice to the handler. “I need you to stay calm, okay? Nat has got this under control, I just need you to do me a favor and not freak out.” 

 “Nat? Sam, what do you--" 

 Asset walked into the room and the Captain’s eyes widened. Asset checked the screen; no issue with his vitals. Maybe the handler needed more of Sam’s ‘comfort’? 

 The Asset walked over to the handler’s bed and tried it out. “I need you to stay calm, okay?” he repeated. 

 Steve burst into sobs. 

 Did the Asset comfort wrong? Accessing data… 

 “There, there,” he said, patting the bed beside the handler. It did not make him stop crying.

 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 Mission-assist Sam was right; Captain America called the Asset ‘Bucky’. It wasn't a good name by far, but the Asset wasn't very picky, so he didn't argue. 

 Winter wasn't very good at comforting, it seemed. It took a whole three minutes for Steve to calm down enough to let the nurse examine him, and even then he still looked at the Asset with his Sad Eyes.

 The Asset decided this was why he killed people instead of comforted them. He was much better at the former. 

 “Bucky… Bucky, the helicarrier, Bucky…” 

 “Hey Steve, I need you to take a few deep breaths for me,” Sam said. “Can we try five? I’ll breathe with you.”

 They did the breaths, which sounded like a man who’d been punched in the stomach, except slower. Then they went back to normal breathing, except Steve seemed to forget how that worked, but mission-assist Sam let him be. “Bucky? Do you… remember?”

 The Winter Soldier blinked. He’d been asked a question, a direct verbal response was necessary. “I remember the helicarrier,” he confirmed. 

 “Do you remember… the rest? Do you remember me?”

 “From the bridge,” he recounted. “And the mission before that. Nicholas J Fury, mission failure.” 

 “But before that? Buck… do you remember any of it?” 

 The Asset didn't like the Soft Voice he was using. Soft voices usually meant a command for mission compliance, or else recalibration would be necessary. 

 Winter shifted through his memory, looking for anything else with Captain America or ‘Steve’-- that's what Sam called him-- but found nothing.

 “Data is not currently accessible.”  

 Oh, no. That wasn't the correct answer. The Sad Eyes increased in magnitude, accompanied by a painful grimace. Winter checked the display showing Steve’s vitals, but nothing appeared to be wrong.

 “Excuse me, if it wouldn't be a bother I need to examine the patient in full. Would you mind waiting in the hallway?” 

 Sam and Asset shuffled out of the room, leaving Captain Disappointment with the nurse. 

 Another emotion: disappointment. Bucky remembered that one from Rumlow. 

 Sam looked like he didn't know what to do with the Winter Soldier. “He’s… emotional. Excuse him.” 

 “Confirm.” 

 “So I don’t know what your previous handlers were like, but we’re doing things a little different. So here’s the drill: Steve’s gonna try to get out of here as soon as possible, I'm going to say no, the nurse is going to say no, Steve’s not going to care. We’re going to go back to my place and hang out there for a few days before relocating at the Avengers tower.” 

 “Confirm." 

 Sam didn’t seem to like it when Bucky said confirm, but his expression mimicked that of the lab techs, who worried, and were perhaps uncomfortable, but were unlikely to do anything about it. 

 They went into the room right as the nurse said Steve would need a few more days in the hospital to heal. 

 “I'm fine,” Steve promised, already trying to sit up more. “Sam, we’ll go to your house--"

 “Steve, I really don’t think that's a good idea,” Sam said, right on cue. 

 “I'm fine, really. I just need a little help up--" 

 The Asset was moving before his mind had time to process, pressing his hand on the handler’s chest. “The nurse says you need to stay here for maximum health benefits. It would be detrimental to the mission to ignore her advice.” 

 Steve looked at the metal hand on his chest, then at Bucky. They seemed to be at a standstill. “Buck… are you saying you want me to stay another day?” 

 Clearly. The Asset nodded and made the mental note that the Captain’s mental processes may still be distorted after the head trauma. 

 “Well… okay. I guess one day wouldn't hurt.” 

 The look that Sam gave him suggested… surprise? 

**Impress** , his mental dictionary provided, but the definition that went along with it was all wrong. 

\-----------------

 Redhead mission assist (aliases: Nat, Natasha) liked Winter more than Sam did. Sam left that night to “knock back some Z’s while Captain Crunch does his thing", and Natasha took his chair, smiling fondly at The Asset. 

 Handler “Steve" also spent a majority of his time looking at Winter, though he didn't smile. From time to time he’d ask questions that Winter would do his best to answer, even though he didn't understand the intent. 

 “What do you remember?” Steve asked, early on. 

 Winter did not like that question. The correct answer always varied: sometimes he was just supposed to say the mission, but sometimes they wanted more. It was hard sometimes to differentiate between a test and an interrogation. This didn't  _ seem _ like either, but… 

 “I… don't know,” Winter said, carefully. As he hoped, the handler explained himself. 

 “Do you remember Brooklyn? Growing up?” 

 Yes and no; The Asset never ‘grew up’. It simply was, when it needed to be. “Brooklyn is in New York.” 

 “Yeah, but do you remember it at all?” 

 “Steve, it’s been a long day,” Natasha said, proving that she was in fact, a mission assist. “Let's not push it, okay?” 

 Steve made a new expression for Bucky to file away, where his face contorted and his eyebrows pulled together. Baby Face, Winter decided to call it, like a baby who wanted to have a tantrum but didn't have the energy for it. 

 Later they tried ‘less loaded’ conversation, as Natasha put it. Steve asked Winter if he had any questions, letting him know he was free to ask anything. Winter thought, then asked “Why do you call me Bucky?” 

 For the next half hour, Steve talked in various states of misty-eyedness about his childhood best friend, James Buchanan Barnes. James, it seemed, was a ladies man, a dancer, a science enthusiast, a soldier, and a reliable friend. He sounded like someone Winter would enjoy being around, if--

_ Enjoyment is non mission protocol. Non mission protocol? Enjoyment is mission protocol?  _

__ Mission assist Sam had said it was mission protocol, but that felt like a trap. 

 Winter refocused in on the monologue, in case he could get valuable information from it. Luckily, around the .5 hour mark, Natasha stopped him. 

 “Don’t you think you should sleep?” She suggested? Threatened, maybe? It was a very peaceful threat, if that. 

 Handler Steve didn't want to, but he agreed to it. The lights were turned off and Natasha announced she was going to go for a walk, but that Steve should sleep and “give him some space, seriously.” Steve agreed and rolled over on his cot, but as soon as she left, he rolled to the other side to look at Winter. 

 “I'm really glad we found you,” he said, face smooth, eyebrows up, eyes twinkly. “Whatever is going on, I promise you we’ll figure it out. To the end of the line, pal.” 

 The Asset was clearly supposed to respond,but he didn't know how, so, in an act of complete rebellion, his twitched his lips up. Smiles  _ always _ resulted in recalibration. In fact, he probably spent most of his time smiling when sitting in the chair, after they'd already decided he needed correction. He’d grin, and for just a few moments, they would be extremely pissed off. 

 But this time, his handler did not get angry. Instead, in response to the smile, Steve lit up like a Christmas tree, sending Bucky a huge grin back. Bucky dropped the smile; that was not expected. 

\---------------

 After a full nother 20 hours of hospitalization,Steve was discharged. In that time, The Asset learned some potentially invaluable information, including: 

  * Handler Captain America, A.K.A. ‘Steve’, had the surname ‘Rogers’, as in “Rogers, stop doing that” and “Rogers, stop staring at him".


  * Mission assist Sam was in fact on the bridge, and had wings. How, The Asset did not know, but he did suppose the wings could fold up and hide underneath his shirt. The Asset vaguely remembered tearing off one of the wings and throwing Sam to his death, but perhaps the wing grew back.


  * This was not like other missions.



 It still seemed like a trap, but his new handler/assists all seemed much less stringent than their predecessors. He supposed it was because they were out in the field, but it was still strange to be given new instructions like “enjoyment is mission compliant”. 

 At one point, when Rogers was snoring, Natasha explained the mission parameters to Winter. “Do you think Hydra is good or bad?” she asked. 

 The answer was immediate. “Hydra makes hard decisions in order to promote a better future.” 

 “Yeah, I know their mission statement, but do you like them?” 

 “Enjoyment is…” Winter twisted up his features, his mind debating itself again. 

 Natasha nodded, like that was the answer she’d really been looking for. “We are not Hydra. Hydra is gone. We are a part of a group determined to fix some of the mistakes created by it, and make things as they should be.” 

 Winter had had this conversation before. Pierce stared into his eyes, his hand locked around his chin as he said “You have shaped the century. I need you to do it one more time.” 

 So naturally, came the question: “What is my mission?” 

 Natasha considered it. “To become independent. And… happy.”

 “Happy,” Winter repeated. He knew what that was-- he’d looked it up the previous day-- but had little to no personal experience with it. It was linked with Sam’s ‘enjoyment’, he knew.

 So maybe enjoyment really was mission compliant?

 Winter allowed himself to contemplate that, and Natasha didn't say anything further. 

 Later that day, after Steve had woken up, Sam returned, and the morning shifted to afternoon, Steve was discharged and allowed to leave. He stumbled when getting up so The Asset quickly supported him, looping Rogers’ arm around The Asset’s neck and putting his own arm around Rogers’ waist. Steve had to walk slowly and lean heavily on The Asset, but he didn't mind. At least it felt like he had an actual mission. 

 Rogers smiled and said goodbye to every nurse and doctor they passed, even the ones who’d never gone into his room. He was absolutely insufferable. 

 Sam drove the four of them in a tiny rental car, with Winter and Rogers in the backseat. By that point, Winter hadn't slept in over 48 hours, which meant he should be fine to continue for longer, though his eyelids felt heavy and he had to focus to stay alert. It didn't take long for Steve to notice (especially since Steve spent most of his waking hours staring at him.

 “It’ll be a while until we get there. You can take a nap if you want,” he suggested, and eyed his shoulder in a silent offering. Winter blinked at him. 

 Winter missed his mask. When he had it over his face, he didn't have to think about responding, or saying the right things. When he had his mask on he was able to go and leave his team of people behind. Natasha had said that part of his newest mission was to learn independence, but the soldier already had that; it had been taught early on. He didn't need backup. The Winter Soldier was capable and logical; all he needed was a name, a face, and the general idea of where he needed to go, and he could take it from there. 

  Winter watched out the window and adapted the drifting facial expression that he usually wore when people talked around him. His handlers tended to think he was a good soldier because he followed orders. They were wrong; he was a good soldier because he could collect and analyze data, he had patience, he knew how to play people, be it handlers or subjects. 

 Sure enough, the others started talking. Steve stayed silent for the most part, only grumbling comments from time to time, his lips twitching up and down like he didn’t know what to feel. He looked at Winter a lot. Winter looked back out the window. 

 He listened to their conversation and defined things, filing away phrases and notes in his mind. The mission assists talked with a sort of comradery Winter didn’t know how to emulate-- yet. 

 After thirty three minutes-- Winter noted the others spoke in terms of minutes, not hours-- they arrived at the safehouse and disembarked. 

 Steve looked to him. “Bucky, do you wanna--" 

 He nodded curtly and drew his handgun: a nice Glock 19. He immediately walked around the side of the house, gun down but finger on the trigger, to start the perimeter check. It was standard procedure, and even if his new handler wasn't technically Hydra, Steve shouldn't have to ask. 

 There was a rustling sound behind him and Winter checked to find Steve following him like a lost puppy, not even in proper fighting stance. The Asset ignored him, continuing until he’d circled the building, checking for hazards, people, and any other threats, including bugs or trackers. Winter cataloged the threats mentally, preparing for the report: houses nearby with windows facing house, possibility of snipers; seesaw in the backyard with a dangerous case of termites; exposed irrigation tube, potentially disturbed waterline; and a roof that was far too low. Winter swung himself up onto it easily, checking for any other threats before climbing back down. He marched inside and Steve followed behind. Once Steve was inside, Winter closed the door and faced him, back straight. “No imminent threats. Possible threat of sniping if exposed.” 

 Handler Steve did not respond nor discharge him. Instead, he just stared. “Bucky? What are you…” 

 “Perimeter check,” Winter explained in his monotone. 

 “Oh, Buck…” 

 “It’s a good idea,” Sam butted in. “Who knows? There could be all sorts of dangers.”

 “Your laundry basket is the most offensive thing about this place,” Natasha said, walking in from the hallway. She tossed a pair of basketball shorts at Sam. “Care to explain why those smell so bad?” 

 He looked at her in horror. “You went through my laundry?” 

 She shrugged, the corner of her lips tugging upwards. “It smelled hazardous.” 

 Winter marched over and took the clothes,sniffing them. “Confirm.” 

 “Hey!” 

 Sam snatched the shorts back, and The Asset waited to be reprimanded/recalibrated. But all Sam did was shoot Natasha a glare. “You are a horrible house guest.” 

 Natasha stuck out her tongue as Sam left to put the shorts away. They was silence for a few moments before she asked “Anyone hungry?” 

 “I'll cook,” Steve said immediately. He all but ran into the kitchen, and, as he was the head handler, Winter followed. “I'm going to make… all Sam has is breakfast foods, so I guess breakfast foods.” 

_ Breakfast. _ Memory data accessible: thick shakes that tasted like clay, salty solid food that resembled artificial meat in taste but were shaped in squares, a needle jabbed into his arm (“time for breakfast, eat up"). 

 The foods that Captain Rogers pulled out did not look like breakfast. Winter knew what they were, of course-- eggs and bacon, butter and orange juice-- but he didn’t recall ever having them on a mission. 

 Winter stood, waiting for his orders. He was given none. As Steve turned the stove on, he side-eyed him. “You don’t have to--" 

 Winter strode over, snatching the package of bacon and dumping it in the sink, pouring water over it to put out the fire that his oh so capable handler hadn't realized he'd set. Steve stared at him. Bucky turned off the stove. “I can cook,” he informed. 

 “God Bucky… I know, I know you can cook. Yeah, okay. I’ll sit.” 

 Sitting was good, especially for such a flammable person as Steve. In order to open the package of bacon Winter had to use a knife, which also may not have been safe for the handler. Mission-assist Natasha had said his mission was to become independent and happy, but Winter was starting to get an idea of what the mission was actually about. 

 It wasn’t uncommon for his handlers to lie about the purpose of the mission. They told him what his job was and then acted as if he was too dumb to understand what they were saying when they weren't standing directly before them. It was why he started listening in to their conversations, how he perfected the blank stare. 

 “How are you feeling?” Steve asked as Winter placed the bacon strips onto the pan. 

 Winter froze. He was asked a question, a direct question, and recalibration would occur if he didn't answer--

 “Within functioning parameters.” 

 “Is that good?” 

_ What?  _ Winter looked at Steve, but it didn't seem that he was playing a trick on him. 

 “Yes.” 

 “Do you… hurt at all?” 

 Hurt? Hurt was not something The Asset experienced. 

 Clearly, his handler was inept. He just kept asking questions though, even though Winter didn't answer. “How do you feel? How are you healing? Do you feel sick at all, or tired? You could always take a nap, heck, I could probably use one. Buck? Buck, are you ignoring me?” 

_ Are you ignoring me  _ was a dangerous sentence. “No. Condition: stable.”  _ I don’t need a nap, why would I need a nap?  _

 “Bucky…” Winter didn't have to turn around to know Steve had pulled out the Sad Eyes once more. 

 The Asset finished cooking and placed the food on a plate for his handler. His handler immediately pushed over half of the food onto another plate, pushing it towards him. 

 Bucky knew that command. He ate and created two new files in his mind, because that day felt like a new files type of day. Bacon was filed under “good things” and scrambled eggs was filed under “bad things”. He ate all of both. 

 “We used to be friends, you know,” Steve said after a while. “We grew up together.” 

 “Error. The Asset-- I didn't ‘grow up’.” 

 This displeased Steve. Winter added it to his file.

 “You did grow up, I'd know cause I was there.”

 Winter fiddled with his knife, spinning it around his fingers easily. He felt… warm, comfortable. This man sitting across from him,who should not be trusted with fire, was his handler, and based on the data Winter had collected thus far, he was not intent on using recalibration. The mission assists didn't seem to be either. Winter would test this theory, he decided. 

 He was warm and his stomach was full and he wasn't in serious pain, meaning he was… comfortable. Sam had seemed comfortable earlier that day, playing around on his phone. He’d hummed. 

 Winter tried it. He hummed a little, quietly, keeping an eye on Steve’s body language. Winger twirled the knife around his fingers, trying to keep his own posture relaxed. Steve did not tense. 

 “We grew up in Brooklyn,” Steve was saying,completely unaware of Winter’s rebellious humming. “I was about 90 pounds and only 5 foot 4, and I was always getting in fights, I can’t imagine why.” Steve waited for Winter to say something; Winter said nothing; Steve sighed. “You always had my six.” 

 His tone reeked of nostalgia. Winter wasn't sure if he'd ever felt nostalgia before, but he was willing to try it. “I fought the guys off for you,” he added, trying to sound like it was something he remembered. 

 Steve Steve immediately brightened, sitting straighter. “Yeah, yeah! You did, somehow you always found me, you’d grab the guy off of me and punch him for good measure--" 

 “With my metal arm,” Winter agreed, nodding. “To make it really hurt.” 

 Steve immediately deflated. “No, Buck, you didn't have the metal arm back then. That was before the war, long before you...  don’t you remember?” 

 Winter waited for Memory Data to offer something, but it didn't. That meant he was probably not supposed to remember. “No data accessible.” He twitched a little, like his mind was short circuiting. “Am I supposed to remember?” 

 Somehow, Steve managed to deflate even more. “I'm sorry, it’s not… fair. I shouldn't expect anything from you.” 

 Steve stood up abruptly, pushing out his chair and leaving the room without another look at his plate. He hadn't finished his eggs. 

 Winter cleared the plates and brought them and the utensils to the sink, washing them with the dark blue soap that was sat there. The sink had a hose attachment that Winter liked in secret. It made washing the plates easier.  _ It’s good that Steve left,  _ he decided.  _ He’d probably strangle himself with the hose on accident if he were left to wash his own dishes. _

 The thought made him smile. Winter quickly his it, going back to assassin face. He hid the thought under  **File: Humor** and when he left to go find Steve, there was a little skip in his step that wasn't there before. He should hurry; who knew what sort of dangerous situation Steve would get himself into with the Soldier there. He might bleed out from a paper cut, or stick his finger in a wall socket. 

**New Mission: ‘Steve’.**

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this writing style and the different characters! Thanks for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

 The Winter Soldier was allowed nice things in the safehouse. Sam told him to shower, so he did-- Winter had to shower sometimes on missions, so he knew how it worked. It was a simple process, soap, soap, water, and leave. He was only allowed to shower for two minutes, and only in cold water. 

 But that was back when he had a handler breathing down his neck. Steve was a lot of things, but he was not a handler, not really. He wasn’t violent enough to be one. If Winter rebelled, Steve wouldn't shoot him and then recalibrate him like a half-decent handler would; if anything, he’d drop his weapon and give Winter the Sad Eyes. 

 Winter wanted to test his theory, but he wasn't ready to go overboard. After all, he’d already hummed earlier, so when he got into the shower, he purposely stayed in for five minutes, not two. 

 When he came back into the living room, Steve glanced up from the couch. “Hey. That was quick.” 

 The Asset’s brain twitched again. He didn't like this; that was a threat, clearly, probably, but…

 “We’re playing Hearts,” Sam said. “Want us to deal you in?” 

 Rumlow was going to be so mad. He was going to shoot Steve in the head, no doubt,when he found out how he'd been handling The Asset. Then Winter would be recalibrated, first with the board, his arm dead by his side and his body strapped in as the tilted it back and drowned him over and over, and then with the pills, the ones that made his organs flip inside out. After that, Rumlow would make him sit in the chair again, and his mouth would taste like rubber as they flicked the switch and everything became hell. Winter knew that, at one point, the electricity had made him forget things, but at some point, it had stopped doing that. He’d complete his mission, give the mission report, and then the chair would lean back and his mouth would taste like rubber. The world went to hell, then it went back to normal. They asked what he remembered. He pretended to remember nothing. Otherwise, they’d lean him back again. 

 Sam was staring at him, Winter realized, the same with Steve. Even Natasha peered at him boredly over her cards. 

 Winter went and stood behind his handler, staring at the card game with the blank face. They continued playing and he continued pretending he wasn't paying attention, all while defining, filing, and watching. He was always watching. 

 Sam seemed to think that both Steve and Natasha were some sort of superhumans, as witnessed by his various comments ranging from “you don’t have x-ray vision, do you?” to “Natasha, you're not also a miracle of science, are you?” 

 At that, Steve smiled a little. “If anything, she’s all natural. I'm the only one here that came out of a can.” 

_ Incorrect _ . People do not come from cans. 

 Though Winter collected data on all of them, he found himself focusing on his handler. Steve was particular about what caused him to smile, even the little flashes of smiles he got sometimes. His lips twitched a little when he started purposefully playing cards to get Sam stuck with the most points, and then when he played the Queen of Hearts and stuck Sam with it, he wore a hidden smile. When he won he had a little smug smile, but nothing made him grin as much as when Sam  _ lost _ and started threatening him. 

 “Are you hiding cards? Come on Rogers, you only have seven points! Where are they? Where are those twos? Come on, stand up, I'm going to pat you down. Bucky, you were watching his cards, tell me you saw him cheat!” 

 Winter was given a command. He frowned. He didn't what the lie would mean for Steve, but it was a direct command. “I saw Steve cheat.” 

 Steve squawked indignantly. “I did not!”

 “Soldier,” Natasha said, addressing Winter, “Theory: Steve Rogers is a little shit. Confirm?” 

 “Confirm, Rogers is definitely a little shit.” He looked at Steve seriously, who instead of getting angry was beaming. What was wrong with this man?

 Sam announced that he was going to get a snack and then go to bed, and Natasha followed him to the kitchen. 

 “Do you wanna sit on the couch?” Steve asked Winter once they'd left. “You don’t have to stand all the time.”

 Bucky sat on the other side of the couch, watching Steve. Steve watched him back. 

 Sam came in and handed a small container and a spoon to Steve, and the same to Winter. “It’s Greek Yogurt, and I know neither of you asked for it, but I'm hosting you right now and it’d be rude for me not to offer, and it’ll be rude for you to turn it down, so you better just eat it.” 

 “Thanks Sam. What would we do without you.” It appeared that Steve also knew how to speak in a singular tone. 

 Winter prodded at the lid, pulling it off slowly and sniffing the contents. It smelled strongly of cream and something sweet and bitter. Half of the container had a thick creamy substance, and the other had some sort of mashed red fruit. He took one bite of the cream--  _ enjoyable _ , that's the word Sam would use-- and one bite of the fruit. It made his nose twitch. It was sour, too sour, and sour was most definitely on the bad list. 

 “Do you wanna trade?” Steve asked. “You always liked the taste of blueberries.” 

 Winter wasn't sure how true that statement was, but he traded regardless. Steve mixed in the fruit and the cream-- yogurt, his mind corrected-- but Winter couldn't bring himself to. He ate the cream plain; it was better that way. Rich and thick, yes, it was on the good list, for sure, but he ate it like he didn't taste it. Just in case. 

 “Sam says that you and I will share the guest room,” Steve said, as if to fill the silence. “I can sleep on the floor if you want, or on the couch--" 

 “Deny.” 

 “What?” 

 Winter hated talking. His missed the muzzle. “Deny. You will sleep; I will keep watch.” 

 Sam had said it was okay to use first personal pronouns like ‘I’, so Winter tried it out. It felt weird. 

 “Bucky, I've slept enough today. When was the last time you slept?” 

 “Data unclear; possible memory alteration due to head trauma. Approximately three days, specific hours unavailable.” 

 Steve's eyebrows shot up. “Bucky! You need to sleep! And head trauma? That was… that was me, wasn't it?” 

 “Confirm.” 

 Steve made a horrible expression, one that would simply not do. He needed comforting, Winter realized. Oh no. 

 “There there,” he said, patting Steve’s arm. The first time he’d done that, Steve had burst into tears, but this time he just stared at Winter’s hand. Maybe Winter was getting better at comforting?

 “You need to sleep,” Steve decided. “No one needs to keep watch.” 

 “Deny. Standard safehouse protocols--" 

 “Then I’ll keep watch. You sleep.” 

 Steve was also an ass, Winter realized. He and Sam were both asses. He longed for the cryofreeze chamber so he wouldn't have to deal with Steve’s shit anymore. 

 Steve threw out the yogurt containers and lead him to the bedroom, where Winter learned the new standard nighttime procedure. He already knew how to use the mouthwash, but he watched Steve brush his teeth with a toothbrush and paste, white foam dripping out of the corner of his mouth. Fascinating. He wanted to stay and watch Steve perform his other nightly duties-- he had a theory that Steve peed sitting down-- but Steve made him leave and close the door behind him. The sounds were inconclusive. 

 Sam provided clothes for them, and Winter watched Steve get dressed, to confirm that he didn't accidentally strangle himself on the shirt collar. 

 The Asset climbed into the bed and laid down, still watching Steve, who laid next to him, except he stayed on top of the covers, propped up by the pillows. “Go to bed, Buck.” 

 When Steve looked at him, Winter quickly closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep. He opened them again as soon as Steve looked away.

 Sleep came sooner than expected.

\-------------------

Touch was on both lists, somehow. The type of touch that left stinging and aching was on the bad list, but Winter was pretty sure fingertips on his cheek were on the good list. His handler was leaning over him, still giving him plenty of room despite tracing his fingers over Winter’s skin. Winter opened his eyes, and they met Steve’s blue ones for one, two…

 Steve pulled back, like Winter’s cheek had burned him. Winter squinted at him, trying to ask the question silently:  _ Did it? _

 “You can go back to sleep,” Steve said, not meeting his eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. It’s just… you were so still? You didn't move at all in your sleep.” 

 Winter continued giving him that look. It was confusion, he remembered, it had a name. But he wasn't supposed to express anything? Why wasn't his handler angry? Winter’s cheek shouldn't feel warm from the soft touch, it should be stinging from a slap. The fact that it wasn't was a testament to his handler’s incompetence. 

 Winter continued staring at Steve, waiting for the morning report. He wasn't supposed to ask questions (unnecessary questions resulted in recalibration), but Steve wasn't saying anything, just staring back at him. 

 “Report?” The Asset waited. “Morning report?” 

 “It’s… four thirty?” Steve said, as if he wasn't even sure of the time. “It’s foggy? Outside? Do you want the weather, or--" 

 “Deny. Adequate Intel. Resume mission?” 

 “What’s the mission?” 

 “Awaiting mission.” 

 Winter  _ had _ been given a mission, but it was the one Sam had told him about independence and happiness, which was… 

 Define?

**Bullshit.**

 “Bucky, I don’t have a mission for you. This isn’t… like that anymore.” 

 Bullshit. 

 Maybe this was a test. Maybe Winter was supposed to test out independence by formally assigning his own mission. 

**Mission: Steve.**

 Okay. 

 “I will take the next shift,” Winter decided. 

 “You don’t--" Steve sucked in a breath. “Fine. If it makes you more comfortable, then… sure. I'm just going to…” He rolled over, pulling out one of the pillows from behind him and pulling it to his stomach, wrapping his limbs around it and tucking his chin into it. 

 Winter stared at him. 

**What the hell?**

Confirm. 

  
  


\-----------------

 Mission-assist Sam made eggs for breakfast. When the plate was placed in front of Winter, he sighed internally. 

**The Soldier does not complain.**

 Confirm. 

 Winter ate his eggs. 

 “Thanks for breakfast, Sam,” Steve said. 

 Searching dictionary…

**Compliment v.**

**To politely congratulate or praise someone for something.**

_??? _

“No problem. There’s nothing I love more than feeding you an entire weeks worth of eggs in one meal.” 

 “Sam…” 

 “I'm  _ kidding. _ ” Sam gave Winter a pointed look, like  _ can you believe him? _

 Winter finished his eggs. 

 “Bucky’s already done,” Natasha said, looking him in the eyes. “I guess he really likes eggs. Would you like more, Bucky?” 

_ DENY.  _

__ **DIRECT QUESTION. MUST BE ANSWERED OR RECALIBRATION WILL OCCUR.**

_ SQUAWK.  _

__ “More rations are unnecessary,” Winter said, trying his best to remain monotone. The redhead was smirking at him. “Perimeter check?” 

 Handler Steve flushed a bit, which was always amusing. Winter tried to keep it to himself. “Um, no Bucky, I told you we don’t--" 

 “I have security cameras,” Sam interrupted calmly. “Those are like, little devices that watch the outside for me.” 

_ MISSION, WHO DOES HE THINK I AM.  _

__ “But if it’d make you feel more comfortable, you could do the perimeter check yourself. Would that make you feel more comfortable?” 

**Comfort is non-mission compliant.**

_ Mission-assist says-- _

__ **Comfort is non-mission compliant.**

“Unnecessary,” Winter answered. 

 Mission-assist Natasha looked smug. 

 “Usually, Sam and I go for a sunrise run, but we skipped it today, because, well, you know.” Steve was still flushed. “But if you'd like, you could come with us another time. Do you like to run?” 

_ Do you like to run? Do you like to run, he asks. _

**Enjoyment is non-mission compliant.**

_ Clearly.  _

__ **Defining: Migraine.**

“Bucky?” 

 Natasha seemed to take pity on him. “Bucky, you should go running with them.” 

**Truly a mission-assist.**

 Confirm. 

 Sam started clearing the table, so Winter stood and took his and Steve’s plate and silverware. Steve’s fork looked awfully sharp, it probably wasn't smart leaving in the hands as clearly incompetent as Steve’s. 

 Steve flushed when Winter took took his plate. “Aw, you didn't have to do that. Thanks.” 

 Winter hated that word, too. How was he supposed to respond to ‘thanks’? It was his duty. 

**Mission: Steve.**

_ Yes, I know.  _

__ **Mission: Steve.**

_ I know. _

__ **Mission: Steve.**

_ CONFIRM.  _

__ **Confirm.**

  
  


\-------------------

  
  


 They run, that evening as the sun sets over the reflective pool of the Washington monument. The Asset expected Steve and Sam to run alongside each other, but instead Sam starts by jogging and Steve starts by sprinting. In a split second decision, Winter tries to keep up with his handler, running alongside him with a uniform stride, trying to match him footfall for footfall. When they pass Sam-- and they pass him often-- Sam calmly raises his middle fingers at them. 

 By the end, Winter is sweaty, panting as quietly as he can, and dying on the inside. His normal expression has been replaced by  _ MAXIMUM-ASSASSIN FACE  _ and the only thing he can think about is how much he doesn’t want them to notice. The Asset was not allowed to show weakness. If he did then recalibration would oc--

 “Pretty good workout, huh?” Steve said,breathing heavily but not as heavily as he should have. 

 Approximate distance to the reflecting pool: 20 meters. 

 Approximate time to detain and drown a normal handler: 5 seconds to detain, 3 minutes to drown. 

 Approximate time to detain and drown Steve Rogers: 2 minutes to detain, ??? to drown. He’s tried drowning him once before, with mixed results. 

 Steve was still looking at him. Winter cleared his throat. “Yes. A good workout.” 

 A small smirk appeared on Steve’s face as he towelled of the back of his neck. “Don’t tell me you're tired?” 

 Before Winter could respond, Steve snapped the towel down, hitting the Asset’s glutes. Steve walked away casually, going to talk to Sam. 

_ Define? _

__ His internal dictionary sputtered.  **Comradery. Friendliness. Flirting. Brotherly-affection.**

  
He was going to die. 


End file.
